


Breathing in Darkness

by SapphireSmoke



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Burns, Dark, Dubious Consent, Emotional Abuse, F/F, Not Beta Read, Physical Abuse, Restraints, Scars, Sexual Content, Spanking, Stockholm Syndrome, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireSmoke/pseuds/SapphireSmoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped between worlds, Morgana found she breathed for a singular purpose she would never live to fulfill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathing in Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt @ [kinkme-merlin](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com): To punish Morgana for her failures, Morgause binds her up spread-eagle and face down in a dark room. She only visits to fuck her and have Morgana go down on her, all the while telling her what a bad girl she is and how badly she has failed her.

Fingers tangled in raven curls, their grip fierce and unwavering as they violently pulled Morgana from the only sense of sanity that she had anymore. The Ward’s mouth fell open in surprise as she was brutally torn from unconsciousness, being forced back into the world she longed to escape from. The darkness of her prison enveloped her once more, shrouding the colors of her dreams with a harsh cruelty she could not bear to face. 

Morgana closed her eyes, for she found the darkness behind her lids was far brighter than the blackness that had consumed her sister’s heart. She didn’t dare breathe.

“I grow tired of this.”

Morgana said nothing. After being there long enough, she had learned not to speak; words only caused the bruises on her ivory flesh to grow darker, her wounds from Morgause’s rage to run deeper. Worst of all, words disallowed the apology that would come afterwards; the two words she ached to hear, the touch Morgana found she lived solely to feel.

Trapped between worlds, Morgana found she breathed for a singular purpose she would never live to fulfill. 

“I’ve missed you, sister.” Morgause’s voice held an air of longing, of a need to reclaim days past. Yet it was tinted with a sorrow Morgana could not ignore; her sister’s memories overshadowed with disappointment and regret, Morgana’s own with pain and despair. “I had hoped, by now, you would have learned. Yet day after day, nothing changes.”

Morgause released the grip on her hair and Morgana’s vision flashed white, her skull emitting a sickening crack as it landed heavily against the stone slab she was bound to. Morgana bit her lip to keep from crying out as her hands instinctively pulled against her confinements, her raw skin beginning to bleed beneath the shackles as she tried to cradle her aching head. She didn’t even get close.

A singular finger ran up the back of Morgana’s leg, along her supple thigh, then over the curvature of her arse. Morgause’s nail dug into her flesh, leaving an angry red mark in her wake. Its sting was nothing compared to what was to come. “I loved you,” Morgause told her; the declaration making her words catch in her throat as emotion overwhelmed her. The sound made Morgana squeeze her eyes shut tighter, willing tears not to fall as her sister’s words tore her heart from her chest. “I _trusted_ you and you failed me, just like everyone else; because in the end, Morgana, you are no better. Because above all else, _you are just like me._ ”

A strangled scream fell from Morgana’s lips, echoing through the dark chamber. Morgause had placed the flat of her palm on her arse and whispered a few words; burning her, charring her, destroying her flesh in the most agonizing of ways. And yet despite Morgana’s futile, momentary wish for death as she cried out for help, the physical pain was incomparable to the truth; that she had failed, that she was unworthy. She had promised her. She had _promised!_

Morgause’s voice was strained, trying to force back her own tears as she watched Morgana suffer. “I don’t want to do this,” she told her, running her hand over Morgana’s marred flesh for a moment as she healed it back to its normal state. The Ward could still feel the pain burn hot like fire through her veins, extending to every inch of her being, and it worsened after Morgause said, “But you need to _learn._ ” Her hand connected hard with her arse and Morgana cried out as it came again, again, and again… longer, _harder_ each time that it began to blur the line between pain and pleasure, love and hate, beauty and utter disaster.

Then nothing; the silence was deafening.

Morgana struggled to take her next breath. The cold stone she lay upon did nothing for her flushed skin; her sister knew just how to burn her from the inside out, for she herself had burned out a long time ago. Morgause moved around the slab, coming to rest at Morgana’s head. The Ward forced herself to open her eyes, knowing that she needed to see; that she _deserved_ the pain that she would receive from the sight that stood before her.

Morgana’s stomach lurched, nausea creeping its way up her esophagus. Even in the dim light of the moon, the scars that littered Morgause’s body shone agonizingly bright; a storyboard of her own pain and devastation. This was how _she_ learned; and as Morgause’s flesh and blood, it seemed Morgana was obligated to learn the very same lesson. 

“ _You were supposed to be better than me!_ ”

Morgana’s cheek stung as her sister’s hand connected with her flesh, an angry handprint left in its wake. A tear slipped down her cheek yet Morgana kept still, letting her eyes meet the floor in a gesture of submission. Better was not who she was nor nothing she ever would be; Morgana could see it pained Morgause to do this, every day trying desperately to make Morgana see a truth that was consumed by so many years of lies. It’s inevitable continuance suffocated her, yet Morgana could not find it in her to tell her sister what it was that she wished to hear. If she could not feel it, the acknowledgement would never be right.

A hand tangled in Morgana’s hair again, violently pulling her towards the apex of her sister’s thighs. The routine was the same, day after day, yet each and every time it sought to destroy them both just a little more. “Show me,” Morgause begged her, wanting all of this to stop yet too consumed by her own madness and the ghost of her past to do anything but what she was built for. “Show me the truth; for once, Morgana, _please…_ ”

Straining against her constraints, Morgana’s mouth covered her sister’s sex. The desperate need to please her, to _love_ her, devoured Morgana whole and yet still she could not provide Morgause with the truth that she so desperately sought. Morgana would never utter the words she wished to hear and so Morgause tried to absorb the lie with her wanton need, yet once again was not privileged the sanity it would bring them both. 

Though Morgana kissed her softness with lavish greed, Morgause could not let go. She never could though, for she lived and breathed darkness and one moment of light, one moment of _clarity_ , had the ability to destroy the very core of her essence. Frustration overwhelmed her and Morgause shouted explicits, her heart bleeding out through her words as she threw Morgana away from her. It was not unexpected.

“Why do you do this to me?!” she shouted, grabbing Morgana’s shoulder to roughly shake her, fingernails digging so far into her flesh that she drew blood. “ _Why?!_ ” The Ward did not have to see what Morgause had conjured in her hand to know what was coming next; it was routine by now, something Morgana found she craved at the end of the day. The sickness of her life began to overwhelm her, yet she lost herself in the feeling for it was all she knew now. 

If faced with the choice, Morgana would choose Morgause again and again; for she was the only thing she could ever call home, despite how broken it had become.

The whip came down against the skin of Morgana’s back, slicing a deep line across her destroyed form. The Ward’s cry echoed off the walls; the sound was loud, broken, deafening. Morgana’s nails clawed at the stone slab beneath her, shredding them down to nubs as her back tensed, waiting for the next blow. Morgana’s blood was sticky and hot as it ran across her pale flesh, pooling beneath her stomach as the sting of Morgause’s rage came again and again.

The pain was blinding, blurring the world between the living and the dead as Morgana struggled to catch her next breath. She was trembling beneath Morgause’s gaze, finding that time stopped the moment the whip went limp in her sister’s hand. It fell to the floor, nothing but another horrible memory as Morgause fell to her knees. Her hands gripped Morgana’s forearm with such urgency, such regret that it made Morgana want to wrap her in her arms and tell her it would be alright; that one day, Morgause would see that it was her who needed to face the truth, not Morgana. That she would wait patiently until that day came, because in the end, they were two sides of the same coin: doomed to never see the reality of one another, yet forever connected nonetheless. 

Morgause was a part of her soul, and Morgana found she would rather die than live without her.

“I’m sorry.” The crack in Morgause’s voice mirrored the crack in her sanity. “Forgive me, sister; I am so sorry…” Her hand slid over her sister’s back, healing it once more to its original state. It was as though it was Morgause’s only comfort; trapped in a routine she had always known, the change she instilled in that aspect made her feel more in control. Morgause would never leave Morgana the way she herself was left; broken, scarred, her beauty and soul brutally stolen from her over years of torment and corruption. That gesture, in itself, was proof to Morgana that her sister truly did care, despite the twisted image of horror and self-loathing their relationship had become.

Morgause climbed on top of the stone slab, covering Morgana’s body with her own in her attempt to shield her from the world, from herself, from the darkness that raged within them both. She held her as though she could not breathe without her touch and Morgana shuddered beneath Morgause’s form, a warmth spreading through her that served the comfort she so desperately needed. The blonde’s lips fell to the back of her neck, kissing Morgana in a tender note of apology.

Morgause’s hand slid between their bodies, falling between Morgana’s legs. The Ward strained towards her touch, her breath catching her throat as the moment she craved for every day began. “I love you,” Morgause whispered in her ear, wrapped up in a blanket of self-loathing as she tried, desperately, to make her sister better, “more than life itself, Morgana. I want it all to stop, I _beg_ of you…”

Morgana bit down on her bottom lip as her sister slid her fingers inside of her, filling the void that had always seemed so desolate before Morgause came into her life. Her muscles clenched and drew Morgause in further, a groan dying in the back of Morgana’s throat from the hoarseness of her voice. This was all she needed, _this._ The world was meaningless, colors were dulled around her and harsh sounds became akin to whispers until the very moment that Morgause gave her the love Morgana so hopelessly craved.

It was too short. It was always too short; for Morgana found herself constantly on the edge as she grasped at the remains of that one, perfect moment that could make this all seem worth it. Morgause made love to her with brutal satisfaction, milking the pleasure from Morgana’s very pores as she marred her flesh with bruises; each mark a harsh reminded that Morgana was hers and hers alone. The darkness faded as a wave of satisfaction coursed through the Ward’s body, bringing color to her life for a one, blissful moment of fearlessness.

When Morgana fell to earth, she found herself trembling and breathless. Her sister tensed above her, sliding her fingers from Morgana’s body as she held her breath, waiting. It was, after all this time, the only thing Morgana said anymore. And so when she turned her head, letting the coolness of the stone connect with the warmth of her cheek, Morgana whispered the words Morgause craved to hear day after day.

“I forgive you, sister.”

**\- FIN -**


End file.
